Wakeful For Her Sake
by JessicaJones
Summary: Naomi Amell has her happy ending, but it isn't as perfect as she'd hoped. Her command is falling apart, her friends keep abandoning her, and Morrigan's absence casts a long shadow.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This was written for the Bioware Bang on Livejournal - please go check it out on livejournal to see the lovely playlist that Evesharmony made for it (biowarebang dot livejournal dot com slash 12482 dot html). Thanks very much to Decantate for the pinch-hit beta and to Sagacious Rage for organizing everything, and for helping me write the summary._

_Title is from the W. B. Yeats poem, "Friends"_

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><p>-o-<p>

Cody nipped her heels impatiently. Naomi snapped a warning at the mabari, then lifted her nose, scanning the air for traces of darkspawn or rabbits. As a bear she had a nose like a spyglass. A cold wind blew down the North Road, carrying with it the biting smells of the Amaranthine Ocean, and she parsed out the salt air, and the tang of the evergreen trees, and then her hair stood on end as she caught another scent, one she had never expected to smell again, the sweat and polish smell of one Alistair Theirin.

Naomi shook her head in disbelief and then she lumbered to a run. The bear was fast and it covered ground quickly, and Cody barked happily as he stretched his legs to keep up.

Naomi found him on the North Road, and she skidded to a halt and bellowed before he saw her. Alistair turned. It was the same Alistair that she remembered, with the same stance and the same eyes and wearing the same gray armor that she had given to him in Denerim. His face broke into a grin when he saw her.

"Naomi is that y—" he began, but she knocked him off his feet before he finished. He yelped.

_Where the Fade have you been?_ she growled, pressing her claws into his shoulders, and the color drained from his face. As a bear she had very little control over her emotions. _Who do you think you are, waltzing back here like you own the place? If I wasn't so Maker-cursed—_

He swatted at her with his hands. "Please tell me that I'm not just being attacked by a wild animal," he said. Her lip curled and she snarled at him, but she drew back on her haunches, and he pulled himself to his feet. "I can't understand anything you're saying, Naomi. You're a _bear_."

Naomi snarled again, then she closed her eyes and released the bear shape. Her senses numbed, and she was small and weak again. From the ether her staff appeared. Her robes reformed themselves around her, constricting her movements and scratching at her skin, and her chestnut hair fell long and wild over her shoulders. She tied it back roughly as she stood up.

"Sorry," she said. "I was hunting."

"It wasn't exactly the welcome I was hoping for." Alistair managed a smile.

Naomi breath caught; she had forgotten that smile. She swallowed. "I didn't think you were ever going to show up," she said. "Varel thought you were dead."

"Who's Varel?" Alistair asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Don't change the subject." Naomi hugged her arms around herself and frowned. "Where were you?"

Cody pushed his nose into Alistair's hand, licking his fingers, and he stroked the mabari's great head. "Everywhere," he mumbled, then he ruffled the dogs ears. "Nowhere. I just... after everything that happened, in Denerim, and... Redcliffe..." She stiffened, remembering those particular moments in Eamon's castle, and he shook his head. "I needed some time to think. I spent some time in Highever."

Alistair ruffled the dog's ears. Then he took a deep breath, and held it, pursing his lips. It was a tell, and Naomi sighed.

"Did you find Morrigan?" she asked.

"What? No, I wasn't..."

"Alistair." She scowled at him.

His shoulders slumped, and he looked away. "No," he said. He looked back at her, and his eyes went wide. "I wasn't looking for her, not really. I mean, I just needed to know... about the baby." He reached out to her. "You don't need to be—"

"I'm _not_." She pulled away and turned towards the Keep, walking up the road at a brisk clip. Losing Morrigan was a pain tied tight together with losing Alistair; she could not say which hurt more.

"Just because you aren't King doesn't mean you don't have responsibilities. I should have you hanged for desertion." She forced heat into her voice before she exhaled. "But we're desperately short on fighters. Last week I had to give Anders a sword." She glanced over her shoulder. "When you meet him, you'll understand how terrifying that is."

His face brightened considerably. "Does that mean you're letting me stay?" he asked.

They reached the portcullis, and Naomi waved at the guards. The gates opened, iron ringing against stone, and she fixed her eyes ahead of her as she stepped through.

"As a Warden you're welcome here," she told him. She had hardly considered any other option, and if she was being honest with herself, she knew exactly how this ended, too. Naomi shook her head. "But we're not together," she insisted. "It's been too long."

Alistair followed meekly after her. "I understand."

They passed a section of wall that had collapsed, the reinforced stone scattered across the grass like spilt rice. Alistair scanned the Keep and she heard him draw a breath when he saw the burnt out husk of a barracks, the inverted hollow of a storage shed that had exploded in the firefight.

"There's so much damage..." he said.

"Yes, well, we had a battle," Naomi returned. "It's over. You missed it."

She mounted the steps into the Vigil two at a time, fuming silently. Alistair should have been here to help her fight the Architect, he should have been here to defend the Keep, he should have been _here_. Learning to fight without him had been like learning to walk again.

They entered the Great Hall, and she could hear his footsteps behind her, metal ringing against stone. Naomi found herself remembering Orzammar. He wore different armor then, but the sound was the same. He had snuck his first kiss outside the Proving Grounds; she remembered blushing. Her steps slowed.

Alistair caught up to her and walked beside her, close enough that she could reach out and take his hand, if she wanted. She remembered holding his hand, that night in Redcliffe Castle, and she remembered letting go. Two months of timid flirtation stood between that first kiss and those first fumbling moments in his tent, but it had taken two minutes to convince him to sleep with Morrigan. Naomi saw too many people when she looked at him, and the man who had been with the witch was someone she could never know. She laced her hands together behind her back.

As the door closed behind her, a man stood up from his perch beside the firepit to intercept her. Beside her Cody barked a warning, but she raised a hand to silence him; it was only Stroud. She stopped obligingly.

Naomi had been surprised when Weisshaupt had sent the Orlesian to be her second, but she supposed they wanted someone in Amaranthine with experience. Naomi was still very young. Stroud was an accomplished warrior, and tough as nails, even if she sometimes had trouble looking at him without giggling.

_If moustaches could kill_, Anders had said, _Stroud would be the deadliest Grey Warden in all of Thedas_.

"Who's this?" Stroud nodded at Alistair. Naomi introduced him, and his eyes widened. "Well, that is unexpected," he said. "We were told you were dead!" Stroud addressed Naomi. "Will he be staying with you?"

Naomi winced. The Orlesian knew too much about her. "No," she said.

"Ah." Stroud stroke the long hairs of his moustache, and Naomi bit back a laugh. "Well, there are no free rooms, so I suppose he'll have to bunk with Nathaniel."

Naomi frowned. "I was thinking of Anders, actually," she said. "Nathaniel is so prickly with strangers."

"Mm, but the thing is I have already put someone in Anders' room, and it would be rather crowded with three." Naomi's brow lifted, and Stroud elaborated. "A templar I recruited this morning. His name is Rolan. He's from South Reach."

The world suddenly seemed to slow down and tilt sideways, and Naomi was keenly aware of Alistair's presence. She lowered her voice. "I don't understand," she said. "You Joined someone without me?"

"You were indisposed, and he was dying." Naomi opened her mouth to object, but Stroud cut her off. "We do recruit people, don't we?" She nodded, and he shrugged. "He survived, you should be pleased. He's very good with a longsword."

"I suppose I'm glad there isn't a dead man on the floor," she allowed, "but you can't possibly think that Anders is going to room with a templar, are you out of your mind?"

Stroud's face darkened. "I should ask you the same thing," he said. "The Wardens have a long history of looking the other way when it comes to blood mages and other maleficarum, but your man Anders..." Stroud clicked his tongue. "A little templar oversight is the barest precaution we should take."

Naomi scowled. "He isn't—"

"Bah, who am I to question the Hero of Ferelden?" Stroud laughed and waved his hands. "I'm sure you think you can handle an abomination, if it comes to that."

"Abomination?" Alistair asked, and she grit her teeth. Stroud nodded.

"Mmm. Anders has been consorting with a Fade spirit. The Commander is rather liberal when it comes to demons, isn't she?" Stroud gave him a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Perhaps because she killed an Archdemon. And survived." Alistair didn't react, but Naomi thought she heard his voice sharpen. The room grew smaller and darker and she felt her chest tighten. "The Chantry is still up in arms that we recruited Anders at all. Better one templar than a whole army, _n'est-ce pas_?"

Naomi gaped at him. Sometimes she still had nightmares about the night she was taken away. The faces of her siblings were lost to time, but she could still see her mother's face, and she could still hear her sobbing as they took her, could feel that terror echoed in her own chest. The thought made her feel three feet tall and helpless, and she pulled inward, like a little girl with her head down.

"If we let this Rolan in," she said, "do you think they'll leave us alone?"

"It's a possibility, yes."

Naomi swallowed. "I'll talk to Anders," she mumbled. She thought there was nothing she would not do to keep from losing the people she loved; she wondered if this was how Maferath felt. Naomi shook her head and turned to Alistair. "You can stay with Nathaniel. And yes, before you ask, he's a Howe. Don't stare at his nose."

Alistair nodded. "I'll try not to," he said.

She met his eyes, and he smiled again. Naomi leaned against her staff. Then Stroud grunted in self satisfaction and Naomi imagined herself as a bear, rending flesh from bone.

-o-

Anders found her before she could find him, cornering her in the small space between the pantry and the kitchen. She backed into shelves full of dry goods.

"Did you really think I would stand for this?" he demanded. Tendrils of blue light snaked across his skin, a manifestation of a rage she had never seen in him before. The air began to crackle.

Something had changed in him the day Justice passed from this plane. Naomi knew there was something between the spirit and her friend, some forming alliance in the Fade, but she never imagined it was dangerous. She clutched a jar of honey as though it might offer some defense.

"I've tried to protect you," she said, "but it isn't that simple-"

Anders wasn't listening to her. "That a mage would do this to another mage." She felt the Veil tearing, like glass cracking in the cold, and the temperature dropped sharply. His body trembled. "I don't know why I expected any different. You did the same thing to Jowan."

Sometimes the weight of her own choices felt like a literal thing, pressing down on her and making it hard to breathe. "Jowan was a blood mage," she tried to remind him, but the point was lost. Anders' eyes flashed cerulean as something _other_ tested their reality. Naomi knew it must be Justice. She pushed back with her own power, testing a dispel against his wrath, finding it lacking.

"Anders," she panted out. "I've known you since I was twelve. You're like a brother to me. I love you."

Her hands tightened on her little jar. "Both of you," she amended. "But I think this transition has been somewhat... rocky, and you might benefit from a little templar assistance." A thought struck her. "Alistair's back," she said. "If you don't trust this Rolan, I could ask him to—"

"They're all the same!" Her own mana pulsed and swelled as the Fade came crashing in around them. Naomi reached for her spirit magic, for the bear, for anything, but she was overwhelmed by the unsteady power in the room. She did not think Anders would ever hurt her but then she had never guessed he might be vulnerable to possession, either. She felt herself drowning.

And then she felt the cool cleansing numbness of templar skills, and then the rough slap of a smite knocked her to the floor. Anders whirled away from her. A severe looking man she assumed must be Rolan stood in the doorway, holding a sword low near his hip.

"Commander," he said. "I came as soon as I felt—"

"Well, jolly good for you!" Anders picked himself up off the ground. His robes snapped with static as he brushed himself off. "You took the big scary mage down from behind. Very noble. Crisis averted."

Naomi smiled weakly at the templar. "Welcome to Vigil's Keep," she said. "I'm Naomi."

"Rolan." He dipped his head

Anders glared down at her. "I know you're fond of templars, but this one's taken," he said. "The man follows me everywhere. He's quite besotted."

Anders brushed past him, and Rolan nodded again before turning to follow him. Naomi sat on the floor, and she realized she was covered in honey. The jar had broken. She watched silently as her friend disappeared.

-o-

Naomi made her way to the back of the Keep, holding a potted plant. Sometimes she thought the only way that she related to people was through gifts. She wished there was a gift so extraordinary that it could smooth things over with Anders, and coax him back from the brink.

She found Velanna in her herb garden, tending the new crop. She was crouched low, her hands furrowed in the dirt, and magic flashed from her fingertips. An elfroot seedling sprouted.

"Anath era, Velanna!" Naomi called out. The elf looked up and Naomi waved.

She crossed the garden to her. "I brought you a prickleweed," she said, and she held out her hands. "I had Ines send it over from the Tower. She said they're rare."

Velanna squinted at the plant, and Naomi pushed it into her hands. "_Ma serannas_, Commander," she said. She looked up at Naomi. "I have never understood why you insist on being so nice to me."

Naomi looked down at her feet, dragged her toe through the dirt. "I don't know how else to be," she said. "Anyway, I like you," she added. "I think you're interesting."

Velanna's eyes softened, just a little. "If you say so," she said. Velanna set the plant to the side. "You can't plant a prickleweed with elfroot, they poison each other. But I appreciate the gesture, I suppose." After a moment, she made a small motion with her hand. Naomi sat down beside her in the dirt, cross legged.

Naomi watched Velanna work the earth. She could not remember her siblings, but she had the vague impression that they had also been mages. She thought about them sometimes, and she imagined that if she had a sister, she would have been something like Velanna. Not elven, of course, but sharp-tongued and wild, where Naomi was quiet and restrained.

"I saw that your _sa'lath_ had returned," Velanna said. Naomi didn't respond, and Velanna frowned. "Between him and the _seth'mi _that Stroud dragged in, that's two more templars than we need. Anders isn't pleased."

"It's complicated," Naomi said. "And Alistair isn't really a templar. Or my _sa'lath._"

Velanna scowled. "That may be," she said, "but I need you to understand that I would not chose to share a bed, or a roof, with a templar." Her green eyes flashed. "If Stroud deigns to assign a templar to _me_, you can expect violent retribution."

"Stroud can't assign a templar to you, or anyone." Naomi slashed a hand through the air. "He's not in charge here."

"As you say," Velanna said, and she nodded, but her brow creased in concern.

Naomi looked down at the ground and her eyes found the sprouting elfroot. "I've been practicing the incantations you taught me," she said, to change the subject. "I still can't get the roots to talk back to me."

Velanna rolled her eyes. "You push too hard, shemlen. Watch closely." Velanna reached her fingers into the dirt, and Naomi did the same.

Naomi closed her eyes and breathed in the rich smell of the earth. She reached out with her senses and ran into Velanna doing the same. Their powers mingled. She could hear the roots whispering, very faintly, but over that she could hear Velanna breathing, feel her warmth beside her, sense the heady buzz of their shared connection to the Fade.

She remembered doing this with Morrigan. She would sit beside the other mage for hours in the dark forest, watching a wild thing, until she thought she knew enough to take its shape. They would race each other through the trees as bears; Morrigan always won. The memory overwhelmed her, and Naomi's chest swelled with pain as she gave in to that hurt and regret and loss. Her fingers warmed and the ground heaved.

"Gah! Naomi! Stop!" Velanna's hands closed on her arms, and she looked up. Velanna was wide eyed and pale, and Naomi tamped down her light. Velanna shook her head. "Gods_, _Commander. Sometimes I forget how strong you are."

"Sorry."

"Forget it. You have managed more than I thought possible for a shem." Naomi sat up, and Velanna bit her lip. "Meanwhle, I tried to turn into a spider last week, but I only had six legs."

"That's nothing," Naomi said, and she smiled. "One time, I turned into just one bee."

Velanna let out a laugh, and then the sounds of a sword fight reached them and they both looked up. Naomi sprang to her feet and followed her ears, but when she found the source of the noise she let out a breath: it was only Alistair and Nathaniel, sparring in the courtyard.

Nathaniel took his duties as a Warden very seriously, and he was always practicing with someone, either dueling with Sigrun or trading blows with Varel, but she had never expected to see Alistair on the other end of his sword. For Nathaniel this amounted to bonding, and she smiled.

Naomi rocked back on her heels, watching them. Alistair still fought as he had during the Blight, with a longsword and Duncan's shield, while Nathaniel wielded a sword and dagger. Alistair had dropped behind his shield to forfend Nathaniel's sudden attacks. The archer was overmatched for strength but he was much faster than Alistair, and it was unclear who was winning.

She walked to the center of the courtyard, where the statue of Andraste stood watch, staring blankly into the wall. As a mage Naomi had some resentment of Andraste. It was strange that she should have such a thing in her castle, but then this was never meant to be her home. Andraste's marble pedestal made a convenient seat, and Naomi saw that Anders was sitting on it, watching the fight.

He looked up when he saw her, and Naomi went tense. After a moment he patted the stone beside her. Naomi hesitated before she sat down beside him.

"Where's Rolan?" she asked carefully.

Anders grimaced. "Off with Stroud somewhere, conspiring against me, I think. I've been released into Alistair's care." Naomi nodded, trying not to let her eyes water, and Anders took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry about the other day. I do know that you're on my side. Of course I know that. But some days... some days I am less myself than other days." Anders blew out a breath. "Today I am myself."

The relief Naomi felt was so overwhelming she was almost nauseous. "I'm so glad," she said. "I missed you." Anders smiled, and she squeezed his arm.

"I think you might be right," he said. "This thing I have with Justice... it's a lot to handle. Maybe if I spend some time with Rolan, he can help me stay in control. At least until I learn how to—" Alistair let out a yelp, and they both looked up. Nathaniel had pushed past his defenses, surprising them both, and his blade sunk into Alistair's skin before he could squeeze it off.

Naomi reached for her staff and started to get up, but Anders stopped her. She watched him take Alistair's arm, and blue light poured from his hands. The air shimmered with warmth. It was not the same spirit magic she remembered. The feeling of the spell was different, somehow, altered by the influence of Justice, but the effect was the same: the gash healed, the bleeding stopped, a man was restored.

"Handy guy to have around," Alistair said. He clenched and unclenched his fist, then lowered his arm. "That... wasn't actually meant to be a pun."

Anders laughed. "It would be easier if you didn't let him cut you open in the first place," he said. He glanced at Nathaniel. "Why are you working so hard? The war's over."

"It's never over," Nathaniel chided. "In peace, vigilance, remember?"

"Huh." Naomi looked up at Alistair, who grinned back at her. "All this time I thought it was flatulence. Makes so much more sense now." Nathaniel smiled faintly, and Alistair shook his sword at him and shifted his weight, resuming battle stance. "Again?"

Nathaniel shrugged, and then advanced. Their swords rang together, and Anders bumped into her with his shoulder. She looked at him. "He's all right," he said, nodding at Alistair. Anders turned and smiled. "I wish I'd known."

Naomi quirked a brow. "Known what?"

His smile grew mischievous. "That I was your type."

"Stop." She shoved him gently, and he laughed.

Alistair charged then, but his attack was clumsy and unfocused and Nathaniel turned his blade easily. He sidestepped around behind him and then his dagger was at his throat. It took a moment for Alistair to realize he was dead. He yielded.

"I think I'm a bit out of practice," he said.

Nathaniel smiled. "Same time tomorrow, then?" Alistair nodded.

Nathaniel extended his hand, and Alistair reached out, but instead of shaking it, his hand slipped through his. Nathaniel looked at him quizzically, and then Alistair turned to Naomi.

"You never taught them the Grey Warden handshake?" he asked.

She cocked her head to the side. "I don't believe I know any Grey Warden handshake."

"Oh, travesty. I must have forgot to teach it to you." He took a step towards her, and Naomi rose to her feet. He held out his hand. "First, you slap hands, palms open," he said, and his fingers brushed past hers, "and then knuckles," and his hand brushed past the other way. Then his palm met hers, and Naomi stopped breathing. He always seemed so much warmer than other people. "Then slide..." His callouses scratched her skin as his hand slid down, and then his fingertips hooked against hers and he paused, smiled, "and then snap." He pulled his hand up and away and snapped, high, near his shoulder. "Grey Warden handshake."

Velanna snorted, and Naomi remembered to breathe again. She shook her head. "You just made that up right there," she said.

"Maybe a little," Alistair admitted.

Anders laughed, and Nathaniel smiled politely while Velanna rolled her eyes. Naomi wrapped her arms around herself, feeling warm to the tips of her fingers. For a moment she did not feel the sting of those she'd lost. Her home was right there in Amaranthine, and these were her Wardens, her family, happy and whole.

-o-

Three weeks later Anders was gone.

As Naomi waded through the sea of carnage he left behind, the pulpy mass of ruined templars and shredded tatters of the Veil, she was swept along on a current of guilt and loss. Blood soaked through to her skin as she helped Stroud and the others burn the bodies. Stroud said nothing to her and she said nothing to him, but she knew he blamed her for their deaths, and she blamed him for the loss of her friend.

Alistair did his best to cleanse the area. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, and her skin tingled as he reached out with his templar skills. The Fade receded into the smoke as his power washed over her. She felt her senses go numb.

Naomi knelt beside him. She remembered the first time she had seen him like this, remembered thinking he had never looked so beautiful. For a moment she forgot herself, and she touched his cheek, the way she used to. His eyes snapped open and his concentration broke, and the Fade encroached again, making her dizzy.

Alistair looked at her, and for the first time she saw her own longing reflected in his eyes. She stood quickly. "I'm sorry," she said, and walked away.

Naomi stumbled back to her room and tossed back a lyrium potion that she didn't need. She cast a rejuvenation spell, letting it wash over her, clearing her mind, while the lingering effects of the lyrium filled her with euphoria. She doused her face with water until it ran clear, and began to unbuckle the intricate ties that held her clothes together. She was half out of her soiled robes when she heard his voice.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

She hadn't meant to leave the door open. Alistair stood in the doorway, his hand testing the frame, his whole body respecting the invisible line that was the boundary of her quarters. Not even the tip of his toe was inside her room. She wondered how long this détente would last.

Naomi blew out a breath. "Help me with this," she said, touching the nape of her neck, where her collar laced together. "It's stuck."

Alistair paused before accepting, feeling the weight of that invisible line. He knew, she thought, but he came anyway. She watched him cross the room before she turned from him. His hands brushed her neck as he worked at the knot.

"He wasn't supposed to be able to run away," she said. "It's a blood bond. It's forever." His hands went still, and her collar slid free. Naomi exhaled. She turned around and closed the door, her hand lingering on the handle.

"Why did you come back?" she asked.

Alistair blew out a breath. "Why wasn't I always here, is a better question. I don't even know any more."

He touched her arm and she turned back to him. "One day I was walking through the Brecilian Forest," he said, "and I walked by this tree. It was just a regular tree, but I got this flash of the Grand Oak, and I remembered when you did that impression..."

Naomi blushed. "I'm just a tree, oh woe is me, how do I pee...?"

"Yes, that one." He smiled, and Naomi felt her heart skitter. "And I realized I had no idea what I was doing in the Brecilian Forest. I never should have left you."

He looked down at her hand, so small beside his. Naomi let out a defeated whimper, and Alistair looked up. She pushed her lips into his.

The kiss took Alistair by surprise, and it took Naomi back. This was easier, she thought. She was overwhelmed by the sense memory of dark nights by the fire, the half-forgotten feeling of falling with him through tent flaps, sharing urgent kisses on a rumpled bedroll and giving in to less complicated needs. She pulled away to draw a shaky breath and found his eyes; they were searching.

"Just like that?" he asked.

"You can't tell me you don't want this," she said. She could see him fighting with himself, and she remembered how his hesitation used to delight her. Her hands tugged at his shirt. "Please. I just want everything to be like it was."

"Naomi..." He pushed a damp curl back from her face, and she kissed him again. He yielded and she pulled away.

She shimmied out of her clothes, and his eyes followed them down and back up and Naomi saw him give in. Alistair swallowed. He touched the soft skin of her waist, as tentative as their first time, but then she closed on him and slid her tongue inside his ear and he let out a needful moan. Alistair threaded his hands under her arms and lifted her up to him, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. He was carrying her to the bed, she realized; she had forgotten how strong he was.

He dropped her down to her bed and she pulled him down with her, rolled over, leaned over him as she tore off his clothes. She cried out when she took him inside her, overwhelmed by that half-forgotten feeling. For a blissful moment she let her thoughts blink out, but when she arched her back his eyes rolled back and she could not help but wonder if he had done the same with her. When he found release he bit back a shout, and she buried the thought that he might have let loose with her. In that moment she imagined she herself as Morrigan, thoughtless and wild, and despite herself she came with him, letting him pull her over the edge.

Afterwards she collapsed beside him, and he gave her a contented smile. Naomi bit her lip, and his brow creased. He started to sit up. "Maker, I never meant... if you want me to go—"

"Please don't." Naomi clutched his arm. "Don't ever leave me again." She rested her head on his shoulder. His blood hummed beneath her ear, and beneath that she could hear the faint buzz of the taint, the shared poison that joined and separated them. With the tips of her fingers she traced circles over his chest, reacquainting herself with the dips and swells. Alistair nestled his face in her hair, and she sighed.

"What were you were going to do if you found her?" she asked.

Alistair shifted beneath her. "I'm sure I have no idea," he said. "Slap her. Hug her. Steal her kid and run away." He blew out a breath. "I hadn't really thought that far ahead."

She drew back, propping herself up on her elbow to look down at him. His face was the same but his eyes were darker, somehow, and the lines at the corners had deepened. Some part of him had left with Morrigan, she thought.

"Promise me you won't go after her again," Naomi said. Alistair bit his lip, and she shook her head sharply, shaking her hair loose. "She left us, Alistair. She isn't worth our attention." He looked away from her, and she took his chin in her hand and pulled him back. "Promise me."

Alistair nodded. "I promise," he said, and his word was his bond, but she could hear how much it cost him. Naomi rolled away from him. Alistair's breath came slow and even as he surrendered to sleep, and she pushed her hands under her head and tucked in her knees, curling inward.

-o-

In the dark when her mind ran in circles and she could not sleep, Naomi remembered.

The forest outside Denerim is cold and damp, and the trees crowd their campsite like shrieks with outstretched hands. Naomi huddles in the warmth of Morrigan's fire, as she often does when Alistair is meditating. The other mage sets a mug of hot tea in her hands, and then pauses to sip her own. Naomi waits indulgently. While Morrigan would never seek companionship, she is never at a loss for words when Naomi seeks it herself.

Morrigan lowers her mug. "And then he says, 'Sister.'" Her voice is a simpering imitation of Alistair. "'Siiiister.' As though it is so remarkable that a single womb might have produced two idiot children. And then he had the nerve to expect that Goldana would _love_ him, despite never having met him before in her life. Imagine my surprise when she did not." She rolls her eyes. "I will never understand what you see in him."

Naomi suppresses a laugh. "You are too hard on him," she chides, and she looks over to where Alistair sits by the other fire. His eyes closed and his head bowed, he is completely still except for the steady rise and fall of his breath. Naomi smiles fondly. "He only wants to know a family."

"'Tis not blood that makes a family," the witch asserts, scowling over her tea.

"I know that." Naomi reaches for Morrigan's hand, and with a snort her friend pulls away.

"You and your endless _touching_, Amell," she snaps, but her lips curve slightly towards a smile. Morrigan nods at the templar. "Do you intend to make him King? I gather this is Eamon's wish."

"No." Naomi shakes her head. "He wants nothing less, and Anora seems capable enough." She does not add that as a common mage she knows that she could only ever be his mistress, and Naomi has no intention of sharing him.

After a moment she frowns. "He told me something today." Morrigan turns to her, and Naomi blows into her tea, watching the water churn. "Apparently Grey Wardens can't have children. Not together, anyway. Something about the taint..."

Morrigan's lip twitches. "Does that bother you?" she asks.

"No, it's fine." Morrigan regards her skeptically, and Naomi shakes her head. "All right, yes. I thought... I mean, I just imagined we would have children. Two girls and a boy. The boy is named Jacob, and the girls are Rosalie and Mara. Mara is the only blonde, but Jacob's the one who really resembles his father. He loves puns and he has his nose." Naomi feels her cheeks color, and she bites her lip. "You have to understand, in the Tower I couldn't have a family. Since I got out, my fantasies have... got away from me, a bit." She looks up at Morrigan. "It was foolish, really."

Morrigan is watching her in the unblinking way she evaluates an animal she wants to mimic. Naomi expects her to sneer, or roll her eyes, but after some time the witch only nods. "You should consider another lover," she suggests. "Perhaps the elf?"

Naomi laughs. "You aren't serious."

"No, I suppose not." Morrigan sets down her mug. As she does, Alistair lifts his head and opens his eyes. He stretches his arms over his head and then stands, flexing his shoulders, and Morrigan lets out a sigh that is almost wistful.

"It would be easier for both of us," Morrigan says, almost to herself, "if you did not love him so much."

Naomi turns to her with wide eyes, but Morrigan does not elaborate, and Naomi does not pursue it. She has learned not to harry her friend when her face has shuttered like that. Morrigan stands quickly. "Shall we resume your lessons, then?" she asks. "You have yet to master the spider shape, or the swarm."

Naomi shrugs. "I like the bear."

"Mmm, 'tis a shape that suits you." Morrigan gives a half smile, then crosses her arms under her breasts and scowls. "However, you must learn that the others have value as well. I will not have you limiting yourself in this way."

Morrigan's tone is disparaging, but the intent is affectionate, in its own way. Naomi smiles and allows the witch to share her magic. And in the dark, in the now, Naomi closed her eyes and tried to forget everything else that they had shared.

-o-


	2. Chapter 2

-o-

The repairs to Vigil were almost complete when Velanna brought shattering news. She returned, dirt-stained and travel weary, from her pilgrimage to the Arlathvhen. Naomi met her in the courtyard.

"Where's Alistair?" Velanna asked, which was strange. Naomi was sure they didn't get along.

"Off with Stroud and...," Naomi realized she didn't know their names, "two new recruits. Some men he found in West Hills. They're gathering darkspawn blood, they'll be back soon."

Velanna scowled. "Stroud sure recruits a lot of people."

He did. In the past two years Stroud had recruited seventeen Wardens, sturdy warriors with names like Ethan and Vlad. Four of them were Orlesian and spoke not a word of King's. Naomi had recruited a mage once, a young Libertarian looking for a way out. He spat blood when he died. She left the recruiting to Stroud after that.

"It's his job." Naomi crossed her arms. "What happened at the Arlathvhen? Did you find any news about Seranni?"

"No," Velanna said, and she blew out a breath. "No one has seen her. Moreover, I have learned that I am, in no uncertain terms, no longer welcome among the Dalish." Velanna chewed her lip and looked away. "They do not look kindly on murderers."

"Oh, Velanna." Naomi reached out to comfort her, and Velanna let her touch her arm. "I'm sorry."

After a moment the elf pulled away. "This is not what I needed to tell you," she said. "I learned something else. There has been some talk among the Dalish who have settled in the lands at Ostagar. Apparently a strange woman with black hair has been seen at Asha'bellanar's hut." Naomi's eyes widened, and Velanna continued. "It sounded like it might be your witch, the one who taught you shapeshifting. I thought you would want to know."

Naomi opened her mouth, but she could not find words to express her shock. She had long past given up hope that she would ever see her sometime sister again, but it seemed Morrigan was back in Ferelden, spat back from wherever far flung locale had swallowed her. Naomi did not know what to say. She did not even know if she wanted to see her. She closed her mouth.

"They also said she was with child," Velanna added.

Naomi looked at Velanna. Telling the elf her secrets was like sharing them with the Maker, as she talked to no one else. She took a deep breath and said, "Yes, I know. It's Alistair's."

"What? The churl! I'll—"

"No, you don't understand." Naomi felt her eyes watering, and she squeezed them shut. "I gave him to her."

Velanna stared at her, and she sputtered, and then she blew out a breath. "Oh, Naomi," she said. She placed a hand awkwardly on Naomi's arm, and Naomi leaned against her shoulder. Velanna patted her back and sighed. "You foolish girl."

Naomi sniffed a laugh and pulled away. Alistair should hear this, she thought. The idea of telling him tied her stomach in knots, and she waited anxiously, but when Alistair returned with Stroud and the others, there was a Joining to attend. The ceremony went as they did. When it was done, Ferelden had one more Warden and one more body to be buried. Garevel made the arrangements, and Naomi said a prayer for each of them, her fist clenched over her gut. The new Warden's name was Rainer; the other was Jace.

It was not the right time, Naomi thought. Day passed solemnly into night. Naomi curled up against the hollow of Alistair's shoulder, staring into the dark silence. In the morning the Keep was light again. The day marched on, and Naomi knew her news would not wait. She found Alistair in the kitchen, leaning over a table with his finger in some sort of fluffy white confection.

"What's that?" she asked.

He startled, blushing as he licked his finger, then he pushed the treat towards her— a cake, she thought— and said, "Um... happy name day?"

Naomi frowned. "It's not my name day."

Alistair grinned back at her. "Are you sure? It might be." She watched him curiously as he picked up a knife and cut a wedge out of the cake. "I was thinking about how you missed out on all those family things, growing up in the Tower. I mean, I spent most of my name days with the goats in the stable, but you've never even had one." The piece was transferred to a plate and the plate was pushed into her hands. "I thought you might like to."

Naomi looked down at the cake; she felt almost uncomfortably warm. "Mostly I just saw the cake and I wanted it," he admitted. Alistair ran his hand through his hair. "I was going to invite other people, you know, later, but you caught me before I got the chance."

Naomi looked up at him, standing behind the table, with his hair slightly disheveled and a touch of sugar still on his fingers. She smiled despite herself. "I like it better this way," she said. He was waiting for her to take the first bite, so she did: the cake was soft and creamy, sweet but also sour. "What kind of cake is this?" she asked.

"It's cheescake! Isn't it brilliant?" Alistair looked like he was going to explode with joy. "It's cheese, but it's _also cake_."

Naomi laughed, and Alistair smiled brightly. She took another bite, and he served himself a somewhat larger piece. "It's perfect," she said, and she meant it, but the news about Morrigan was still niggling at her thoughts. Naomi pushed her plate away. "Alistair, I need to talk to you about... something."

Alistair set down his fork and straightened. "That sounds serious."

Naomi swallowed. Their life had just begun to straighten out. She knew that he loved her, she _knew_ that, but some part of her wondered if she could ever compete with Morrigan. She wondered if Alistair would still think to bring her cake if he could be eating cake with the mother of his child. She opened her mouth of speak and ended up hugging him instead.

"What's all this?" he asked. Naomi pulled him closer.

"Do you want children?" she blurted. He shifted in her arms, and she added quickly, "W-with me, I mean."

She felt him go tense, and when he did not answer immediately she regretted the question. After an uncomfortable silence he squeezed her shoulder. "It's not really worth thinking about, is it?"

Naomi sighed. "No, I suppose not," she said. She patted his arm. "Can I ask you a favor?" He nodded. "Bann Ceorlic has been complaining about darkspawn in the south bannorn for months. Can you take Oghren and check it out?"

"Just the two of us?" His brow creased. "You aren't coming?"

"It's probably nothing," she said. "I'm needed here, and I know you can handle it." Naomi smiled at him, and Alistair brightened in the warmth of her trust. He smiled back without suspicion. She slipped away a few hours after he did.

-o-

"Why did you come here?"

Naomi looked up at Morrigan and wondered if the witch had truly imagined that she could not come. Perhaps for her the bonds between people were that easily severed, but it was not this way for Naomi. The shimmering Eluvian yawned behind them, a place beyond this world and beyond the Fade hidden in its aubergine depths.

Naomi swallowed. "We were friends once, Morrigan," she tried.

"So you chase me all this way to... offer help?" Morrigan cocked her head to the side, considering this strange notion of aiding the people close to you. Then she shifted her weight, shrugging as she crossed her arms. "I will never understand you," she said, "and you will never understand me."

"I won't understand unless you _help_ me to," Naomi cringed at the pang of desperation in her voice. She bit her lip. "Why did you betray me?"

Morrigan frowned. "I did not betray you," she said. "I left, just as I said I would."

Naomi shook her head. Every moment of kinship had been a betrayal, turned sour by how it ended. She could feel the bear growling in the pit of her stomach. "You lied to me all along."

Morrigan shrugged. "'Tis true I deceived you," she said. "I needed you, yes, but I also did not want to see you die." Morrigan let slip that bare note of concern before she crossed her arms and her eyes narrowed. "And here you stand, alive. So do not speak to me of _betrayal_."

The last word came out knife sharp, though from anger or pain Naomi could not guess. She looked away. Naomi had never held a grudge before. She wanted to forgive Morrigan, so much, but she did not know how to forgive someone who did not ask for forgiveness.

"Tell me where the child is," she said.

"He is safe, and beyond your reach." Naomi squeezed her eyes shut; so it was a boy. She could see a picture of him in her mind, a curious toddler with hazel eyes and red-blond hair that never lay flat. Or maybe he had black hair and golden eyes. She wondered how readily he smiled. She wondered what his laugh might sound like.

"Change is coming to the world," Morrigan was saying. "Many fear change, and will fight it with every fibre of their being. But sometimes change is what they need most. Change is what sets them free."

Naomi looked back. "Let me come with you," she said.

Morrigan drew back, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Naomi had surprised herself as well. The bear was leaping in her chest. She could not say what made her say it, but she knew suddenly that she did not want Morrigan to walk through the Eluvian alone.

"I wish that were possible," Morrigan said, when she had caught herself. "But you do not know what you ask. I cannot allow you to make that sacrifice." Naomi searched her eyes, and there was a hint of the Morrigan she thought she knew. That woman stood there silently, alone and vulnerable, and Naomi wanted to bound up the stairs and pounce into the Eluvian with her but she knew she would not make it in time. Morrigan hooded her eyes.

"Good-bye, my friend," she said, and then that woman was gone.

Naomi stared into the Eluvian. In Morrigan's wake it roiled, the ripples spreading out from the space where the witch had been, each wave smaller than the last until it finally leveled and went dark. Naomi felt her hopes unravel; whatever she had come for, she had not found it. She would never even see the child.

She winced when Ariane touched her shoulder. "I can take Finn back to the tower," the Dalish woman offered, her almond eyes creasing in concern. Naomi looked at the young mage and felt a fresh surge of guilt.

"I'm so sorry," she blurted. "You wanted to study the mirror, and now it's..." The words caught in her throat, and she shook her head. "Gone."

Finn jabbered something about the value of the journey, and the importance of any relic no matter how abused, and Naomi nodded and left him to Ariane. She knelt and retrieved Morrigan's book, its weight making her clumsy. She shoved it into her pack. In a daze she stumbled out of the Dragonbone Wastes, her staff dragging rifts through the dirt as she made her way back to Vigil's Keep alone.

Cody pushed his nose into her hand and licked her fingers. Not alone, he reminded her, and Naomi stroked the velvet hairs of his head. When she was sure she would not be seen, Naomi touched both hands to the ground and assumed her bear shape.

Before long the Vigil appeared and the bear reared up; after a moment Naomi was human again, and she straightened her back and smoothed her chestnut hair with her hands.

"Well look who it is." Alistair crossed his arms over his chest.

Cody ran ahead, yipping happily, but Naomi stopped where she stood. She felt her mouth go dry, and she tried to swallow. "You're back early," she managed.

Alistair reached down to ruffle Cody's ears. "There weren't nearly as many darkspawn in the South as you were led to believe," he explained, "but I suppose that's what you get for trusting Bann Ceorlic. Oghren and I got back two days ago."

Then he scowled at her, and she felt a ball of heat turning in the pit her stomach. "Nobody could tell me where you were," he said. "Velanna said you'd run off but she couldn't tell me where, I was worried. You don't usually travel alone."

Naomi looked down at her feet and nudged a pebble with her toe. "It was just checking out a rumor," she demurred. "I didn't want to bother anyone."

Alistair sighed. "I'm being unreasonable, aren't I?" She lifted her head and he took a step towards her. "Of course you can take care of yourself. It's just... well, I paced this courtyard for a whole day, literally, and then on the second day I felt really pathetic, and then that made me angry, and I just... I'm really a hypocrite for being angry after two days, when I left you waiting for half a year." He bit his lip and then he took her hands in his, pulling her towards him. "Can we be kissing now?"

Naomi looked up at him, and exhaled, and then she smiled and nodded and his lips were on hers.

Alistair made a noise low in his throat and she felt his hands on her hips, grasping needfully. He tasted like lamb stew. She pulled away to gasp for air and his mouth moved to the corner of her jaw, drawing breath against his chin. He wrinkled his nose. "You smell like a bear."

She felt her skin flash hot. "I wasn't expecting to see you," she said. "We don't have to—"

"Naomi, please." He knelt and then lifted her into his arms, and she hesitated before she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him carry her back into the Keep. She collapsed beneath the familiar burden of his weight and let him take her over.

Sated, he kissed her cheek roughly; she turned to him and tried to find the right words. "I love you so much," she began.

"I love you too," he said. He pulled her against his side, and she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the distance spreading out between them.

-o-

"You know who I miss?" Oghren said. He rocked back on his heels. "Sigrun. Girl was a bit of alright."

"She did make these Deep Roads seem brighter," Nathaniel agreed. He pulled an arrow free of a slaughtered genlock and wiped its blood off the shaft.

In these dark tunnels the corruption was oppressive, and they could all hear the darkspawn singing in the back of their minds. Naomi shivered. They both looked at her and she nodded, smiling a little.

"Sigrun was the Legionnaire?" Alistair asked.

"Sigrun was the deserter." Stroud's voice was hard and unforgiving. Two of Stroud's men grunted their assent, and the conversation stopped short.

Stroud was the reason they were in the Deep Roads. The Orlesian was the moustachioed embodiment of Warden clandestiny, and when asked _why_ they were in the Deep Roads he was typically evasive. A dark power is rising,_ de sous nous il dévore_, or some such, but his intelligence was usually sound, and so Naomi had agreed to follow him down.

Velanna stood apart from the group, her eyes scanning the dark. She had been more aloof than usual, Naomi thought, since her trip to the Arlathvhen. She moved towards the elf. "What are you looking for?" she asked.

"I thought I saw my sister," Velanna said.

Naomi nodded. "I used to think I'd seen Morrigan in the market," she said. "A girl with dark hair, or a black skirt. Of course now that I've—"

"No, it _was_ her," Velanna said. She reached for her staff and bolted suddenly, dashing off down the corridor. Naomi stared at the space where she had been, then she shouted at the others and took off after her.

She turned a corner and Velanna wasn't there. Naomi held her breath. There was no way to follow the hum of the taint; there were too many other beacons down here, both Warden and darkspawn. Naomi slid sideways into the bear and found Velanna's scent.

Stroud shouted for her to slow down, but the bear did not know patience, and she didn't want to lose the trail. She could feel the corruption of darkspawn pressing close, and then suddenly they were surrounded. The ground shook with Keeper magic: Velanna stood with her back to the wall, her staff raised, dust whorling around her slim form. Oghren took his place in front of her, and Naomi felt dizzy with relief. She threw herself into the fight.

A hurlock charged at her and she bit off its head. Hot black ichor ran down her jaw, its taste both sickly and familiar, and she felt the stab of a thrill she'd forgotten. There were no politics in these fights, and no guilt in tearing the monsters apart. She saw an ogre and she fairly howled her pleasure. She barreled after it and sunk her teeth into the soft muscles of his neck; she shuddered when he howled. Naomi knocked him to the ground and tore at his flesh with her claws. He was strong but she was stronger, and when at last she stood over his dead body she forgot herself for a moment, panting and grinning foolishly.

"Morrigan!" Alistair shouted. Naomi turned around, unable to express her confusion in her bear shape. "Look out!"

She didn't realize he was talking to her until it was too late. The hurlock's axe collided with her skull and sent her reeling. Alistair intercepted the attacker before the skull could cleave bone, but Naomi could only barely register this. She stumbled away, and strong hands gripped her arms. She was dimly aware that she was human again.

Naomi felt herself falling. Her head was on a lap, and she looked up, saw Stroud. She smiled dreamily; she had lost a lot of blood. He seemed to smile back, although it was hard to tell, under that moustache. She heard herself giggle. He rubbed a poultice into her hair, and she worried how it would make her look, and then he set about stitching her back together and she felt the poultice itch and burn. She thought she was crying.

Someone was holding her hand. Alistair's face appeared in her vision, and she tried to form coherent words, failed somewhat.

"You called me Morrigan," she mumbled.

"No I didn't," he said. She lost consciousness.

When she awoke it was the middle of the night, or she thought it was; it was hard to tell in the Deep Roads. Alistair lay beside, watching over her, but he had fallen asleep and she gently lifted his arm off of her, rolled away, sat up. Everything was quiet. She stood and wrapped her blanket around herself.

At the edge of her vision, she saw a flash of golden hair, and she turned to see Velanna making her way around the edge of the camp. The elf had a pack slung over her shoulder, and she walked quickly, even for her. Naomi watched her for a moment before she waved.

"Velanna," she said, just loud enough to catch her attention. None of the others stirred.

Velanna stepped back, cocking her head like a startled bird, and Naomi crossed the campsite to her. "Commander," Velanna said, when she reached her. "I didn't know you were awake. How is your head?"

Naomi gave a little moan and touched her head gingerly. "Really stupid, but I'll survive," she said. Velanna didn't seem to know what to say, and Naomi sat down on a crag. "I wanted to thank you," she said. "The other day... Alistair said he asked you where I was. And that you didn't tell him."

Velanna's mouth twisted into a sneer. "I wasn't _covering_ for you," she huffed. "I just don't like talking to him." She shrugged, letting her pack fall to the ground. "Did you find your witch?"

Naomi took a deep breath and exhaled. "Yes, I did find her, but then I lost her again. Forever this time, I think." She looked away. "She had her child. It's a boy."

Velanna did not seem to know how to respond. "Well, it had to be one or the other," she said eventually.

Naomi laughed. "Not necessarily. It could have been a dragon with six heads, or a single note of music, for all I know." Naomi leaned back, resting her head against the tainted walls. She looked up at the stone ceiling. "But it's just a boy."

"You let her go?" Velanna asked.

"I tried to stop her but she got away." Velanna frowned, and Naomi shook her head quickly. "It doesn't matter. I don't ever want to see her again." But her throat caught as she said it.

Velanna chewed her lip, considering this, and Naomi pushed herself to her feet. Reaching behind her head, she unclasped the necklace that hung from her neck. She wasn't even sure which particular piece of jewelry it was, but she took Velanna's hand suddenly and pushed it into her palm.

"Here," she said. "I want you to have this."

Velanna looked down at her hand. "Why?"

"You're running off, aren't you?" Naomi nodded at her pack, and Velanna's eyes widened, but she did not deny it. Naomi pushed her fingers over her palm, closing the elf's hand around the necklace. "I want you to have this, so that you'll always remember that you have a place with the Wardens, if you need it."

"Oh." Velanna stared at Naomi, and her jaw worked, and then she shoved the necklace into a pocket. "_Abelas_, Commander," she said. "I would stay, but... well... I have to find my sister."

Naomi smiled. "I understand." A cold draught blew down the tunnel, and Naomi shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. "Everyone leaves," she said. "First Morrigan, and then Anders, and now you. Sometimes I wonder..."

Velanna rolled her eyes. "Alistair isn't going to leave you, Naomi."

"I know that." Naomi forced a laugh. "I just mean I'm the only mage left, now. I'll miss you."

Velanna lifted her chin, meeting her eyes, and Naomi smiled faintly. After a moment Velanna crossed her arms across her chest and bowed her head. "_Dareth shiral, lethallan_," she said, and then she turned and walked away. Naomi watched as her silhouette was swallowed by the dark.

-o-


	3. Chapter 3

-o-

Of all the people Stroud recruited over the years, the one Naomi least expected was her cousin. Bethany Hawke was still in the thrall of her Joining when she arrived at Vigil's Keep, but she would survive. Stroud carried her to the room that had been Velanna's. The bed was unmade but still hers, with its grass green blanket turned down and rumpled.

"It was a near thing, this one," Stroud said. He laid her out on a bed and checked her pulse before standing straight. "I though I might have to kill her before the Joining, but she pulled through."

Bethany's eyes opened briefly; they reflected back at Naomi like mirrors, dark and wide as her own. Naomi knelt beside her. "Where did you find her?"

"In Kirkwall. In the Deep Roads." Stroud grunted. "With Anders, incidentally."

Naomi looked up and her lip trembled. "Anders is alive?"

"Mmm. I did not have enough men with me to kill him." Naomi scowled at him, and he shrugged back at her. "He murdered good men, Commander. I suppose I should have asked him to tea?"

Her scowl turned into a glare. Naomi wanted to tell him that he had no right to judge them, that he did not know either Anders or Justice when they were both whole, but some part of her knew that Stroud was right and so she did not speak. He could not sway her if she did not argue.

She felt a strong hand on her shoulder. Alistair knelt beside her and nodded at Bethany. "So this is your cousin?"

Naomi nodded. She had given up hope on ever meeting her kin, and yet here was her cousin, suddenly deposited into her care.

That night she heard shrieking as the nightmares dug their claws into Bethany's dreams. "Do you want me to come with you?" Alistair asked. Naomi shook her head. She had done this many times before.

Naomi remembered how Velanna had screamed and raged after her Joining, how she had blamed the shems and the gods and even her sister, sometimes, when the nightmares were most keen. Naomi drew water from the well. She walked to Velanna's room and looked down at the stranger thrashing in Velanna's bed.

"Bethany wake up," Naomi said. She shook her gently until Bethany sat bolt upright and clutched her hand. Naomi squeezed back. "You're in Vigil. You're safe."

"I was a darkspawn," Bethany gasped. "I was clawing at stone with my fingers. There was a song. I needed to find the song, but the air was so thick..." Her eyes glistened in the dark. "I thought I would never breathe again."

Naomi sat beside her on the bed. "The nightmares come from the taint," she explained softly. She handed her the glass of water. "You'll learn to ignore them in time."

Bethany sipped at the glass, slowly, until it was drained, and then she set it down on a nightstand. She wiped her eyes. "What else do I need to know about being a Warden?" she asked.

Naomi took a deep breath. She wondered how many more times she would give this speech.

"Grey Wardens hunt darkspawn. You are bound to their blood for the rest of your life." Naomi swallowed. "Which won't be very long. The taint in your blood will kill you before you turn fifty, if you survive that long. You're also barren, most likely, and you will be hungry every moment you're awake." She added, "I'm sorry."

Bethany stared into the space between them. She hooked her arms around her knees and tucked her chin to her chest. "It's not your fault," she said.

Naomi frowned. She was much more comfortable when they were angry. She was reminded of her own reaction when Alistair had told her, of how she had closed into herself and tried too hard to be polite, and she wanted to shake her.

"Stroud says you're my cousin," Naomi said.

Bethany nodded. "Mother would talk about you sometimes. You and your sisters were her favorite cautionary tale. I don't know their names, but your mother's name was Revka." She touched her fingers to her cheek and looked away, remembering her own mother, perhaps. "Do you remember her?"

Naomi shook her head. She could remember flashes, but the name meant nothing. She did not remember the Hawkes, either, and she did not know how Bethany was supposed to fit into her life. They sat in silence.

"You can go now," Bethany said. She managed a smile, and after a moment Naomi padded back to her room.

"How is she?" Alistair asked, when she climbed back into bed with him.

"She's good," Naomi said. She pulled the covers up to her chin. "And nice. She's very nice."

And she was as close to an actual sister as Naomi was ever likely to find, and yet Naomi was alarmed to realize that she did not love her straight away. She worried that she had given away too much of herself over the years, so that she had nothing left to give any more, even to her own blood.

In her wakefulness, Naomi crawled out of her bed and curled up in a chair by the smoldering embers of their fire. In its dying light, she reached for Morrigan's book.

She studied the cover before opening it. It was bound in dark leather and inscribed with a script she did not recognize: elvhen, she thought, or something older. It was a book of ancient magic, so pure and powerful that her fingers tingled just to touch it. She flipped through the pages and breathed in the musty spells.

One section in particular caught her interest.

_The art of apparition has always been sovereign and tantalizing even among the magic user's gifts. However, what to the eyes of the uninitiated appears to be a simple disappearance is actually a transcendental unity with the Fade. With the proper application of will and lyrium, it is possible to remove an object, a person, even a whole city, from this mortal plane..._

As Naomi picked over the arcane words, she began to form a picture in her mind of the place where Morrigan had gone. Another place, beyond this world and beyond the Fade. Naomi looked at the elvhen book in her hands and she thought it must be Arlathan. At first she thought it might be the Golden City, but the more she read, the more she realized the two cities were one and the same. A beautiful city lost to its people but still extant, somewhere, like Morrigan herself.

Later in the courtyard, she tossed lightning back and forth with Bethany, testing her strength. Her magic smelled like baking bread. "Do you know we have an estate in Kirkwall?" Bethany asked, between charges. "My sister just bought it back from slavers."

"I have an estate, right here," Naomi said. She looked up at the parapets of Vigil's Keep and waved. "This is my estate. I'm an Arlessa, you know."

"But not really," Bethany said. "The Amells are true nobles. We go back four hundred years."

Naomi did not know how to respond to that, and after a pause Bethany cast another lightning bolt. It was not strong enough, but Naomi reminded herself that Bethany was still young and she was still learning.

"It's so sad that we both grew up in Fereldan so far away from our birthright, and yet we never knew each other." Bethany leaned against her staff. "If my father had only known you were in the Fereldan Circle, I'm sure he would have gone to rescue you. He was a revolutionary, you know, like Anders."

Naomi realized that she had not asked about him yet. "How is Anders?"

"He's wonderful." Bethany smiled fondly. "I don't care what Stroud says. Anders does good work for the people of Kirkwall, although he tortures himself with guilt. His eyes are so sad..." Naomi looked at her curiously, and Bethany blushed. "Yes, I suppose I had a bit of a crush," she admitted. "I don't think he ever noticed. Nobody ever sees me when I'm standing next to Marian."

Naomi quirked an brow. "Does Anders have feelings for your sister?" Bethany nodded, and Naomi's eyes went wide. She did not think that Justice would allow such frivolity. "Does you sister feel the same way?"

"Maker, yes." Bethany pushed off her staff. "They haven't admitted it yet, of course, but it's only a matter of time."

So Anders had fallen in love. Naomi found herself smiling, in spite of everything. She began to imagine that Anders might come home again, not to Amaranthine, but to his own home somewhere with Marian. A man with a home was a man who could be saved. Naomi felt lighter than she had since he had gone, and she dared to hope that things might turn out all right after all.

-o-

Over the next two years Bethany grew stronger. Her healing would never match Anders, and she did not take to shapeshifting, but she had her own skills in force magic that were useful in a fight. Naomi was cleaning up after a particularly messy practice session when Stroud approached her.

"I'm taking an contingent of Wardens to Kirkwall," he said. "The Deep Roads are very old there, perhaps the oldest in Thedas. I have reason to believe that they are the source of the corruption."

Naomi looked up. She thought she might like to go to Kirkwall. She could go to see Anders, and meet her other cousin, and wish them well and try her best to make amends. "When do we leave?"

"Ah, not _we_, I'm afraid." Naomi frowned, and the Orlesian stroked his long moustache. "We can't have you risking your life all the time. How would it look if the Hero of Ferelden died in some northern backwater?" He clicked his tongue.

"I can handle myself," Naomi said. "I killed an Archdemon, remember."

"Yes, and Weisshaupt is grateful for everything you've done. You've earned this time to relax. " He clapped his hand on her shoulder and squeezed down hard. Naomi winced. "It would be better for you to stay here, where everyone can see you. Perhaps Garevel should arrange a few parties."

Naomi squirmed in his grip. "You can't leave me beh—"

"What? Are you going to storm the docks at Amaranthine and force yourself onto my ship? My Wardens would stop you." He released her shoulder and pushed her back. "You're staying here, Naomi."

Naomi stared at him in horror. _His_ ship. _His_ Wardens. She looked down at her hands. "Oh. Yes, I see."

When she found Alistair packing in her room it nearly broke her. It looked like he was packing everything he owned. He dropped a fistful of clothing when he saw her.

"I don't know what the weather's like in Kirkwall," he explained.

"He's taking you?" Naomi did not know why she was surprised.

Alistair looked abashed. "I don't have to go," he said. He crossed the room to her, and she rested her head on his shoulder; he smoothed her hair with his hand. "I don't think I'm breaking rank if my Commander tells me to stay."

"I'm not so sure about that," Naomi said. She pulled away. "You should go. Keep on eye on Stroud for me will you?"

Alistair nodded and he bent his head to kiss her. He kissed her again the next morning in the courtyard, pulling her tight against him and claiming her mouth, as though it was the last kiss he might ever give her. She felt small and lost in his embrace. Stroud arrived with Nathaniel and Bethany and some others she didn't recognize, and Naomi broke the kiss. She stood on the steps and watched the Wardens leave.

Days later, Naomi walked through a nearly abandoned Vigil and accepted that she was not in control. She had not guarded her command, and so it had been taken from her. The Hero of Ferelden was only a symbol, like the statue of Andraste in the courtyard, or the griffon on the prow of Stroud's ship. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Two weeks after the others had gone, Cody chased a rabbit down the stairs and he fell. His hip broke in three places. The mabari was as much a part of her as her fists or her teeth, but after three hours of failed healing Naomi accepted defeat. He had been barking at shadows lately; she thought she knew why he fell. The Calling came earlier for dogs than for humans.

Oghren touched her shoulder. "I can do it," the dwarf offered.

Naomi shook her head and wiped tears away roughly. "No," she said. "He's my dog." She cast frost to numb the pain and then she petrified his heart. She felt the bond between them break.

Naomi buried Cody beneath the stoop where he liked to sleep, then stumbled back to her own empty bed. She pushed her face into her pillow and realized that this was not her home any more. This was not even her world anymore, and she thought maybe it had not been her world since the day she slew the Archdemon.

She was meant to have died that day. Without Morrigan she would have been pulled past the Veil, and she felt that place tugging at her heart. That place beyond this world and beyond the Fade.

She reached for Morrigan's book and traced the inscriptions with her fingers. The boy with the soul of an Old God must be four years old by now, Naomi thought. She wished she could have met him. In her mind she named him Jacob. He had Alistair's nose and his laugh.

She imagined Morrigan with this small child in her arms, on the run from some terrible danger. And then she imagined herself with that child, and she imagined how alone she would feel. Her heart ached for her lost sister. Morrigan could never ask for help, not out loud, not even during the Blight. Her magic always smelled like frankincense, but when she was out of mana it smelled like frankincense thrown on a fire. Naomi thought she remembered the smell of ash in that cave.

The tome was heavy in her hands. If Morrigan had not wanted her to find her, she would never have given her these clues. It was as close to an apology as the witch was ever likely to give. Naomi pushed herself to her feet.

She went to great hall and found the trunk by the door. There were things in here that she had not touched since she arrived in Amaranthine; she pulled out Wade's old drakeskin armor and chuckled. Naomi did not even know why she had kept it, but it was time to put such things aside. She carefully unpacked all her gear and sorted it into three piles: one to sell, one to leave to the Wardens, and one pile to take.

"Can I help you?" Garevel asked. She had not heard the seneschal enter, and there was a note of concern in his voice.

"Yes." Naomi straightened. "I need you to draw up some paperwork to make sure that Bethany is my sole heir." She expected that Stroud would seize the title of Arl, but she still had enough to her name that her cousin should find it worthwhile. "I want her to be comfortable when I'm gone."

"Yes, of course," Garevel said. He looked confused, but the seneschal was too proper to ask her for more information, and Naomi made her way back to her room. She would leave in the morning. She did not have an Eluvian, and she did not really know how to get to Arlathan, but she thought the forests of northern Tevinter would be a good place to start. The only question was whether she would make a stop in Kirkwall first.

Naomi found an old backpack and filled it with her things. Her favorite blue robes, her staff, four silver rings, a floral necklace that filled her with power, six bottles of lyrium, and the old Joining chalice from Ostagar. The Chalice did not belong there. Her attachment to it was purely sentimental, and she was not sure she had room for it in her pack.

She held the cup against her chest and closed her eyes, and in her memory Alistair is there.

She does not remember if it is her tent or his, but she can feel his body warm and firm against hers and his breath is hot against her neck. It is the only fourth time they have made love and the first time it has felt _right_. His back arches and her body clenches and then they are both gasping into the night, shuddering in each other's arms.

Above her Alistair goes still. Cradled on her body, his weight is a delightful burden, and Naomi does not want him to move, not ever, but after a moment he rolls away. Alistair pushes his face into her cheek.

"Maker," he breathes. "That was..."

"Yeah," she says, feeling profound. He lets out a throaty laugh.

Naomi feels lightheaded and she does not know if this is normal. She does not care to find out. She has never been in love before, and does not think she could ever love anyone else. Her experience with Alistair this year has been so separate from the world at large, so uniquely horrible and beautiful and strange, that no other man could ever fill the space he occupies.

"I don't know how I ever lived without you," he says, echoing her thoughts. He trails a finger down the meridian of her stomach. "I could spend the rest of my life in this tent."

Naomi smiles at him. Alistair has never been with anyone else, either. She loves that they are so perfectly naive together, but she wonders if it is the same for him. She has heard it is different for a man.

"You aren't curious about other women?" she asks.

Alistair draws back and frowns, looking wounded. "How can you ask me that? After _that_?" He clasps his hand against his chest. "My heart can only handle so much, Naomi."

Naomi smiles, but she is not entirely convinced. She covers his hand with hers. "You look at other women."

His frown deepens. "I look at people," he says. "I also look at dogs, and shiny things. It doesn't mean I want them. It just means I'm awake."

Naomi rolls her eyes. "You know what I mean," she says. She chews her lip and adds, "You look at Morrigan. I've seen you. I've seen you looking at her breasts."

Alistair winces, and his cheeks are already flushed but she thinks they go a little darker. "I'm sorry," he says. "I really don't mean to. They're just... right there. They draw the eye." Naomi huffs, and he squeezes her arm. "I promise I don't want Morrigan," he says, and his face pinches. "I mean, honestly... Morrigan?"

"She's all right," Naomi says. She gives him a challenging look.

Alistair makes a helpless noise. "I can't win this, can I?" Naomi tries to glare at him, but he gives her a lopsided grin and she ends up laughing instead. He kisses her lightly on the forehead. "How about this?" he offers. "I promise to like Morrigan just as much as you tell me to, how about that?"

Naomi muses for a moment. This man has chosen her, she knows, no matter where his thoughts have wandered. In the end he has always chosen her.

"I can live with that," she says, and she decided to believe it. She crawled into bed and let herself sleep, and in the morning she booked passage on a ship. The ship sailed to Kirkwall.

-o-

It was not hard to find the Wardens in Kirkwall. When Naomi reached the Free Marches she followed the call of the taint until she arrived at their camp outside the city. That many Wardens together made a lot of noise in her blood. She wondered if she would ever hear that song again.

She shifted into the bear and waited for night, when Stroud left on patrol. She found Alistair by a fire with Bethany and she shifted back to her human form.

Alistair grinned when he saw her, and Bethany stifled a shriek. "What are you doing here?"

Naomi did not answer, only ran a hand through her hair, setting it straight. She looked at Alistair. There were a few dents in his armor that she didn't remember, and there was a little blood on his boot. "What's happened?"

"There's fighting in the city," Bethany said. "The qunari invaded, and we ran into some trouble. And Marian, incidentally." She glanced over her shoulder. "Alistair gave her a necklace."

Naomi frowned. "Not my Sacred Heart?"

Alistair shifted his weight on his feet. "I didn't think—"

"I told him you'd be mad." Bethany clasped her hands in front of her and inclined her head, smirking a little. Naomi studied her a moment before she laughed.

"It's not important." She waved her hands. "Did you see Anders? How did he look?"

Alistair shrugged. "Different. But well enough, I suppose." His brow creased. "He doesn't seem to like us very much any more."

Naomi bit her lip. It hurt terribly to lose him, but she had to accept that she could never be everything for everyone. She let Anders go. Then she took a deep breath and leveled a hard look at Alistair.

"I think I know where Morrigan is," she said.

His eyes went wide. "What? How did you—"

"I never stopped looking for her. And I know in your heart you didn't either." Alistair made no sound to confirm or deny, and Naomi looked down. She smoothed her robes with her hands. "At first I didn't want to tell you, because for years I've been afraid that you were a little bit in love with her," to which Alistair started to protest, but she cut him off, adding quickly, "but then I realized that it doesn't matter, because I love her too. I love you both."

She did not wait for him to respond. "I don't want to be Warden Commander anymore," she said. "I want to be where I'm needed, and I think that means that I want to be with Morrigan and your child." Naomi swallowed. "I think you want to be there too."

She met his eyes. "But we give up everything if we do this. I don't know if we'll ever find Morrigan, but if we do, I don't think there's any coming back from where she is. I've already made my choice, but you..." Naomi let her voice trail off.

Alistair hooded his eyes, and she watched him process this sudden change of course. "If I go with you..." he began, then shook his head. "How is this going to work? If we find her... I mean, am I... are we...?"

"I'm not sure," Naomi said. "Do you want to find out?"

Alistair stared at her. After some time he nodded, and she saw that darkness pass out of his eyes. "Yes," he said. He stepped towards her and smiled warmly, and when he stood beside her she found herself smiling back.

"But—" Bethany looked from Naomi to Alistair and back again. "You can't just _go_. At least stay to meet Marian. She's just... right over there." Bethany gestured vaguely towards Kirkwall. "It doesn't seem right that you'll never know her. She's family."

Naomi considered her cousin. If she went into the city then Stroud might find her and try to stop her. She gave Bethany a half smile.

"It's more than blood that makes a family," she said. Naomi reached for Alistair. Strong calloused fingers closed around hers, and she felt as safe and loved as she ever had. She tugged his arm, and they followed after shadows, fading from the light.

-o-


End file.
